


Made for Each Other

by NovaRain



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AI AU, AI!Bucky, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaRain/pseuds/NovaRain
Summary: Steve continues to struggle with Bucky's death even after the ice. Tony offers to create for Steve an AI in Bucky's likeness, bringing past and present together, and hopefully help Steve move forward. As the AI learns and grows from his exposure to the world, life becomes increasingly complicated for Tony.





	1. The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I am an amateur writer to the max, so beware, there will be lots of errors. I may change some things if I decide to continue writing for this AU, for now, this is just to get the idea out there. 
> 
> Context: This AU takes place roughly after the Avengers 1 movie. All the Avengers live at Stark/Avengers tower to facilitate camaraderie/teamwork and to simply make my life easier when writing this thing. I have taken liberties with the movie timeline, so certain details may appear out of order. My primary exposure to Marvel has been through its movies, therefore, my knowledge on Marvel facts is limited.
> 
> *I do not own these characters. This is fanfiction and I do not profit from it.

Like any other day at the tower, when the fate of the world wasn’t being threatened by some villain of the week, the Avengers were making use of their down time by resting, training, or in Tony’s case, fixing.

Today, Steve decided to accompany Tony in the workshop as the genius finished repairing his once mangled motorcycle (thanks a lot, Loki). Steve was capable of making basic repairs, but the damage to his Street 750 during their last battle was too much for simple elbow grease. The frame itself had been crushed and needed someone with additional know-how. And there was no one with more mechanical know-how than Tony.

While lounging on the worn down couch, sketchbook in hand, Steve watched Tony work his magic. It was like watching an interpretative dancer: a study in movement. Tony filled the room with life, with energy; he bobbed his head to the beat of the ambient music, hips swaying him between holo-screens and machinery, hands moving with methodical grace. Steve was always inspired to sketch when Tony worked, a fact which prompted him to smile at the irony.

Their friendship had evolved so much since their fateful meeting in Germany, feeling like ages ago, but really only a little over a year. Despite a rocky start, Steve and Tony developed a grudging respect for one another, eventually learning to appreciate their differences. Differences that complemented more than contradicted each other in battle and in life. They grew to trust each other; they cared about each other.

They became family.

The last time Steve felt this close to someone was with Bu-

_No_.

Shutting the memory away in a forgotten corner, Steve forced his attention back onto his sketchbook, pencil poised over a half-finished line. Thankfully, Tony was too busy to notice anything was amiss with his back towards Steve, now crouched at the front end of the motorcycle.

It wasn’t about Steve being distrustful of Tony with his vulnerabilities. It was for the simple fact he already tried processing the losses he suffered after the ice. Steve was tired of repeating the same vicious cycle: chasing after lost scraps of his past, letting memories fester like a cancer, then insisting to anyone willing to humor him that he was “fine,” always “fine.” In reality, he felt primed to shatter at any moment.

It took Steve longer than he liked to admit, but he learned to accept that living in the past was not healing. Finding Peggy and clinging onto her every lucid moment, obsessively touring the Smithsonian museum, visiting and revisiting Brooklyn for any shred of familiarity...he wasn’t cherishing memories; he was torturing himself.

When that epiphany struck, Steve made a conscious choice: to live. He wanted to be more than “fine.” He wanted to be happy.

But sometimes, it was still hard.

“Mute.”

The quiet left by the absent music was jarring, breaking Steve’s reverie, eased only by the sounds of Tony tinkering.

“Something wrong, Tony?” Steve asked, curiously.

“Not wrong, per se,” Tony hedged, still working. “I just wanted to get your feedback.”

“Feedback on what?” Puzzled, Steve didn’t understand why Tony was suddenly tip-toeing. Normally, when the genius wanted an answer he’d simply ask. Or demanded. Tony was flexible like that.

“How would you feel about a once in a lifetime offer?”

“I guess it’d depend on the offer,” said Steve, uncertain where the conversation was going, but setting aside his sketchbook to give Tony his full attention.

“How about having your best friend back? You know. Bucky.”

The world seemed to haze around Steve as if submerged in water, his lungs stopped working, his heart caught in a vice. He felt blindsided. All the while Tony rambled, gesticulating with tools in his hands as Steve relearned to breathe.

“I mean, I can’t give you Bucky-Bucky, you know? But I can give you the next best thing: a JARVIS, but a Bucky. Of course, I’d need your help with coding the AI just right ‘cause research isn’t going to cut it by itself. You know his personality, mannerisms--all the important stuff.” Tony tightened the last bolt to the front fender before tossing the wrench aside, then grabbed a stained rag to rub at his grimy hands. Completely oblivious to Steve’s inner crisis.

“I’ve been working on a side project for, well, for personal reasons--actually, no, nevermind the reasons. But! It’ll help you show me what I’ll need for inputting the correct data so the AI can perform as accurately as the real deal.” Tony turned to face Steve with a small, genuine smile. “What do you say?”

“I…” Steve had to clear his throat, words escaping him. “I don’t know what to say, Tony.”

“That’s easy, Cap. Say ‘yes,’” said Tony, softening his next words. “Frankly, I think it’s long overdue.”

Steve promptly stood from the couch, his posture stiff, hands flexing at his sides. Whether to punch or strangle something Tony wasn’t sure, either way, a prickle of alarm traveled up his spine.

“Um...or not?” Tony took a tentative half-step back before Steve suddenly lunged at him. “Ste-!”

Tony felt his feet leave the workshop floor, his very breath crushed out of his lungs as he was bear-hugged by an overgrown super-soldier. He wriggled in Steve’s unyielding arms, trying to find purchase to escape, but his arms were pinned to his sides. Noticing a dull pain start to throb in his chest, the arc reactor aggravated by the tight embrace, he winced and finally managed to pipe up.

“OK, big guy,” Tony wheezed out, “less huggy, more breathy.”

Steve flinched, realizing just now how hard he was hugging Tony, before carefully setting the other back down on his feet. He gave the shorter man the most sincere expression he could muster.

“Sorry, Tony, I’m just...” Tony noticed Steve’s blue eyes take on a dangerous sheen, “I’m just reminded of how thankful I am to have you as my friend.”

“Yeah, well, being my friend always deserves some type of recompense,” said Tony, shrugging off Steve’s gratitude with a flippant air.

Steve frowned disapprovingly at Tony, wanting to argue the self-deprecating jab, but experience taught him the stubborn man would just dig his heels in further. He’d have to express his appreciation in another way because praise to Tony was just lip service. A lifetime in the spotlight while surrounded by sycophants will do that to a person. And that’s not even touching on the betrayals. Knowing that, however, didn’t lessen Steve’s frustration.

For a genius, Tony could be downright clueless when it came to heartfelt sentiment. Gestures were more his speed, a language he understood and practiced fluently, but complicated by how much Tony repelled gratitude like a cat to water. Steve knew it was better to meet Tony where he was at than to force the issue by doing it his way and risk arguing like in their “I’m right and you’re wrong” heyday.

This “thank you” mission was going to require finesse.

Meanwhile, Tony was staring at him expectantly.

“Yea or nay, Cap? The choice is yours.”

A part of Steve pointed out the obvious conundrum: wouldn’t crafting a substitute for his dead best friend be the very antithesis of moving forward? Wouldn’t it prevent him from embracing his second chance? The other part of Steve wondered if this was his opportunity to finally break the chains tethering him to the past. To rid the constant weight of grief from his heart that he merely learned to shift away, rather than truly lift.

Memories flashed bright and merciless in his mind’s eye. Memories of Bucky, his face solemn and a hand gently resting on Steve’s shoulder, their clothes soaked through by the rain as they stood at Sarah Rogers’ grave. Bucky grinning ear-to-ear, eyes sparkling with mischief, dragging Steve along to meet a couple of dames for a double date at Coney Island. Bucky dressed in his army uniform, glaring down at Steve, and cursing his stupidity and dogged attempts to enlist. Bucky half-dead, strapped tight to a laboratory chair, muttering nonsense and caked in sweat, dirt, and blood.

Bucky with his face contorted in a terrified scream, drowned out by the roar of the train hurtling across the cliffside tracks, plummeting into an all consuming white void of death.

_This_ was his second chance.

“When can we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mentioned Street 750 is a Harley-Davidson Street 750 that Steve Rogers supposedly rides, according to basic google search.
> 
> The project Tony is talking about is referencing BARF.


	2. Hello Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, against my better judgment, I decided to add another chapter to this story. I have half of a tentative outline figured out for this story, but lack time in my life, so potential updates will be sporadic. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment.

“That’s disgusting, Tony.”

Tony gave Steve his arched brow of judgment. Steve, to his credit, seemed genuinely and mildly appalled.

“Hilarious,” Tony’s tone suggested he found it anything but, “it’s an acronym for Binarily Augmented Retro Framing. Still way in its infancy, but I’ve got the prototype for the prototype.”

Steve peered around Tony’s shoulder as the shorter man opened a metal safe the size of a refrigerator. He could see the insides lined with a plush looking material customized to fit snuggly around different pieces of equipment. Tony began emptying the contents: an awkward looking helmet with an exaggerated visor, a large amp-like machine fitted with a touch screen panel, four projectors with detachable tripods, coils of wire of varying lengths and thicknesses, and an assortment of hand sized attachments. 

Wasting no time, Tony started assembling the tech right there on the floor, all the while rambling an explanation at Steve.  

“This stunning bit of innovation is going to help me help you.” Steve couldn’t help but stare at Tony’s deftly moving hands, making something so complicated look laughably easy. “Basically, the headset will access your hippocampus, stimulate memories, and display those memories through these projectors. I’ll get to see what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, while this,” Tony patted the amp-like machine, “is going to feed me audio so I can better flesh out an algorithm for his personality.” 

Moments like this reminded Steve how much he appreciated Tony. Ever since their helicarrier debacle, the genius made a point to translate his usual techno-babble into laymen’s terms for Steve’s benefit. The gesture reflected a kindness that Tony liked to pretend he didn’t have. A gesture laden with poetic meaning: the futurist welcoming the man out of time. 

“What was it like making your first one?” Steve asked, meandering around the workshop, knowing he could do little to help Tony as he worked. 

Technology was  _ not _ his forte. 

“First what? AI?” Tony barely spared a glance at Steve, who nodded once in confirmation, then shrugged. “Took longer than it really should have, but that’s because I was mostly drunk.”

Steve had made his way to the well stocked kitchenette, deciding on making coffee, when he paused to look at the other incredulously. “You created artificial intelligence while you were drunk?”

“ _ Mostly _ drunk,” Tony corrected, gesturing at one of the two single armed robots. “The end result was DUM-E: a cautionary tale to future geniuses everywhere.”

DUM-E somehow expressed curiosity with a high-pitched whistle upon hearing its name. The robot swivelled on its axis in search of something, grabbing the nearest tool with rubber padded claws, and trundled its way to Tony. DUM-E’s wheels barely made a sound on the polished floor, eagerly approaching Tony with its prize, like a toddler wanting to help daddy with his work. Tony turned to look at the offered tool, frowning in irritation.  

“How’s a level supposed to help me with this?” Tony’s words were biting. “You’re useless, you know that right?”

Steve smirked as he witnessed the exchange because he wasn’t fooled in the slightest. Tony proved Steve’s instincts correct when he took the level from DUM-E with a put upon sigh, trying to give a surreptitious pat to the robot’s claws at the same time.  

“I think he’s fantastic,” said Steve, his tone playfully goading. 

“Quit it, you’ll fill his circuits with undeserved self-worth.” 

DUM-E whirred excitedly at Steve’s praise, completely oblivious to (or purposely ignoring) the verbal abuse from its own creator. Perhaps the robot was used to it or, like Steve, learned not to take Tony’s insults at face value. Satisfied, the robot rolled its way back to its brother, U, possibly bragging about its accomplishments as it whirred and clicked, chattering happily. 

Steve chuckled at the robot’s innocent antics, busying himself with making coffee for Tony. It was the least he could do while the other labored to gift him with the impossible. 

***

When Tony offered to make Steve an AI, he was already proficient in the craft with multiple programs under his belt. Tony was truly a leader in the field, so much so that he managed to whittle down the process of designing, creating, and executing to about two months. This time, however, the process almost doubled, taking about four and a half months to complete. 

Tony was ready for it. He adjusted his calculations from the start, accounting for several variables, especially the factor of relying on Steve’s memories for data. 

Steve, however, was not ready for it. Despite Tony’s dream for BARF to become a treatment option for trauma survivors, it offered little comfort when used outside of its intended purpose. Needing to review and relive years of memories, each more harrowing than the last, was both teasing and tortuous for Steve. Even with a past mired in warfare, it was no easy feat for the super-soldier to stay afloat amongst so much roiling, sometimes all consuming emotions.   

While Steve watched Tony input the last lines of code, surrounded by holographic schematics and who knew what else (Steve certainly didn’t), his thoughts were far away. Looking back on the last several months, Steve could admit he underestimated the exact toll the process would take. Mental exhaustion was almost a constant after every session of data collection. It was naive for him to have assumed anything, but he thought he could simply show Tony what Bucky was like and let it be that. 

How foolish.

But, soon,  _ worth _ it.  

Seeing Tony push away from the desk monitors, Steve stepped back to give the shorter man a wider berth, knowing the other liked to move around when he worked. Steve hadn’t been hovering, exactly, but he was standing nearby. His nerves felt like a live wire, too active to sit still on the couch and sketch like he normally did.  

“Bring up the biometrics will you, J?” Tony snapped his fingers, immediately summoning several holo-screens, their free floating images bathing him in white-blue light.   

“Of course, sir,” replied JARVIS, the AI’s disembodied voice posh as ever.

Steve had a millisecond to appreciate JARVIS’s manners before finding himself in awe. Multiple holograms blossomed around Tony, painting him in an array of colors that made Steve’s hand itch with the desire to paint, to preserve the moment. Tony was the eye of a storm comprised of living data, his movements conducting a whirlwind of energy, a symphony of kinetic power. 

He was in his element. 

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Tony muttered distractedly, causing some graphs to fluctuate when he flicked his wrist as if spinning a dial. 

What happened next wasn’t an “all of a sudden” sort of thing, more like a gradual awakening.

A spherical blue shape phased into existence mere feet in front of Tony at waist level. It looked like an atom but the size of a baseball, spinning lazily in midair. Unable to help himself, Steve drew closer again to stand behind Tony, doing his best to avoid disturbing the other. Steve’s eyes were transfixed onto the little sphere. 

“All right, J,” Tony tapped a few more commands on the floating holo-screens, “sync up the algorithm.” 

“Syncing now.”

Tony dismissed the holo-screens to give them an uninterrupted view of the little sphere. Steve observed how the syncing caused the sphere to almost shiver, thrumming with an awareness of what was happening. Not a minute passed before the shivering stopped and the sphere faded out. Steve was about to panic over the experiment failing, but his nerves were eased by JARVIS.

“Syncing complete.” Steve mentally sighed in relief. “The algorithm has been accepted. Shall I proceed with post-sync activation, sir?”

“Actually,” Tony turned halfway to grin at Steve, “why don’t we let the good Captain have the honors?” 

“Yeah?” Steve couldn’t hide his excitement, but it quickly evaporated into uncertainty. “What am I supposed to do?”

The insecure part of Steve half expected Tony to become annoyed, at worst accuse him of being ungrateful. Instead, Tony softened his grin, encouraging Steve with a reassuring smile.  

“Greet him like you would your friend.”  

Clearing the nervous lump from his throat, Steve spoke hesitantly, trying to mentally prepare himself for the unexpected. 

“Hey, Buck--um, it’s been a while.” 

Turns out, preparing for the unexpected was  _ impossible _ .

Steve was met with neither a disembodied voice nor the little blue sphere. What materialized was the hologram of a man in his late 20’s or early 30’s, standing at an even 6’0 with a moderate build. He was dressed in a plain collared shirt with casual slacks. He had short, almost wavy hair combed neatly to the side, leaving his face open, friendly. He had a square jaw and striking eyes that elevated his boyish cuteness to roguishly handsome.

It was a hologram completely identical to the late James Buchanan Barnes.

The hologram smiled a smile Steve had seen so many times, but it was the voice that made it real--made Steve feel like he was being teleported back in time, back before the ice.

“Did you miss me, punk?”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark is known for his sleek tech designs, but the BARF in this story is very much still a work in progress. The way I imagined it was like when computers were first created, clunky and massive to the point where it could fill a room(s), until it progressively got shrunken down to the slim models we have today.
> 
> The little sphere that looks like an atom is based off of what JARVIS looked like in Age of Ultron. The small size was because the Bucky AI is new to existing, not yet exposed to the plethora of knowledge existing in the world. 
> 
> If you ever want to chat (I love questions and mentally stimulating conversations) or see some drawings I've done (that don't always make it to AO3), I have a modest tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/novarain01
> 
> If you ever want to see hella old drawings of mine (warning: lots of mature/NSFW), I'm on deviantart: http://novawolf01.deviantart.com/

**Author's Note:**

> The mentioned Street 750 is a Harley-Davidson Street 750 that Steve Rogers supposedly rides, according to basic google search.
> 
> The project Tony is talking about is referencing BARF.


End file.
